


Reclamation

by themantlingdark



Series: Sovereignty [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:44:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themantlingdark/pseuds/themantlingdark
Summary: Please pretend commenting is disabled, and please don't repost or distribute my writing.





	Reclamation

The sea is calm. Only the barest hint of a breeze rolls off of the ocean, bearing the scents of salt and the slippery skin of fish. The waves are long and low, murmuring softly as they tumble onto the shore. The sky is heavy and grey and blends into the water, blurring the horizon. The rain is fading and starting to resemble mist. Only the bodies of two tiny gods offer the eye any respite from the silver haze.

Thor walks straight in. He didn't bother dressing, so Loki didn't either.

Loki stares as Thor's long hair sways at his back until the ends are caught by the ocean and swallowed when Thor sinks in up to his ears.

Water swirls around Thor's limbs as he slowly spins them to hold himself up.

Loki wades and watches, worried Thor will tire. Thor's not as buoyant as he was before. There isn't enough fat on him to keep his bones afloat, so he has to work harder to keep his head up.

But Thor is enjoying it. Loki can see him smiling as he turns in lazy circles.

Thor lasts almost an hour before his arms wear out and then he slowly wades in toward shore with Loki at his elbow.

White sand yields a sound like feet dragged over carpet as they make their way across the beach to the blanket and basket Loki brought. Thor kept them dry. Loki has no idea how Thor can rain so precisely, but he loves it: Thor's strange species of genius.

Thor drops onto the blanket, panting lightly, and asks what's for lunch.

Cold meat, crusty bread, raspberries, water, and wine.

By the end of it, Thor's lips are stained a lovely purple and his cheeks are flushed pink. Somehow it only serves to make his eyes more blue.

Thor stares at Loki's lips, a slash of violet in a marble face, until Loki leans in to grant Thor the kisses his eyes have been asking for. Their mouths are slick, but tempered with the impossible dryness of the wine. It feels a bit like magic.

Loki sucks Thor's tongue slowly, savoring the taste behind the berries – that tang that belongs entirely to Thor - and then slips his hand between his brother's thighs.

Thor hums and spreads his legs when Loki's long fingers brush over his balls. He can hear the hair whispering against Loki's skin. When Loki's hand wraps around his cock Thor feels grounded in a way that floods him with relief.

Loki drags Thor's foreskin up and down while Thor's breathing deepens and blossoms into moans, then breaks their kiss so that they both may watch as Thor spurts semen onto his belly in erratic bursts, cock jerking in Loki's fist.

Loki scoops up the spill and spreads it along his own length, gliding his hand swiftly and then painting Thor's stomach with seed once more.

They trade sleepy pecks of lips while they catch their breath, then stagger back into the sea to let it rinse them clean.

Thor waves to a fisherman who passes within three hundred feet, but gets no response.

“I'm still warded,” Thor says.

“Of course you're still warded. No one knows you're back yet, apart from your friends. Heimdall is the only one who can see us.”

“You made him watch us?”

“Well, someone needs to know where we are,” Loki sighs. “The realms are ancient and strange. You never know when you're going to stumble into an old spell or a new enemy.”

“Sorry, Heimdall,” Thor groans, and Loki huffs a soft laugh.

“He's seen worse, I promise.”

They tread water together and stare at each other's eyes.

“Will you always be dead?” Thor asks. “Or will you come back with me?”

“Death gives me a great advantage,” Loki answers. “I can't be suspected. Can't be anticipated. Can't be caught making love to my brother.”

Thor nods, but there's a twist to his mouth that Loki doesn't like.

“If it ceases to be a strength – or if I'm found out - then I'll show myself at your side,” Loki offers, and Thor nods again, smiling now.

Loki put Odin's image on the throne yesterday while Sif was visiting, and he left it there afterward. Sif deserves rest, and the realms are quiet, so the risk is low.

The brothers sit on Loki's balcony after supper to bask in the pink light of sunset and sip mead.

Loki counts meteors while he waits for the moonrise.

Thor spares barely a glance at the sky and asks Loki to join him inside once the moons come over the trees.

The next night it's the same.

And the next.

“You can't bear the sight of the stars,” Loki says, seeing Thor's downcast eyes as they sit in the dark.

“I do not miss them yet,” Thor admits. “But it's early days.”

Loki has taken more from Thor than he imagined. Stolen the stars from the god of the sky.

“I've changed you,” Loki says.

“I've changed you, too,” Thor shrugs. “Often without knowing it.”

“Change is native in me,” Loki tells him.

“You were always like water,” Thor agrees. “I was stone. I altered your course and you wore me smooth. We're still ourselves, though: restless and stubborn.”

Loki laughs. Frigga's wisdom from Thor's tongue.

Thor's physique is nowhere near its former state, but his body is finally exhibiting the signs of health. His skin is smooth and shining and has a hint of color from three days spent at the sea. He can walk without stumbling. His stomach is still sunken and most of his bones still show, but not as harshly as they did when Thor first got home. His eyes are clear and bright.

When they climb into bed that night, Loki can't seem to make up his mind. He weaves and wanders over Thor's form without any discernible pattern. He kisses the tips of Thor's ears and then dips to the insides of the elbows. After that, he nibbles the soles of Thor's feet and makes Thor jerk and giggle like a little boy. Then he kneels between Thor's spread legs and bends forward to drag his face back and forth over the planes of muscle at the base of Thor's belly, feeling the scattered hairs catch in the creases of his lips and kissing the crests of the hips as he sweeps his head from side to side.

“I want all of you at once,” Loki sighs.

“I noticed,” Thor laughs.

Loki hums and rests his head on Thor's hip. He listens to Thor's gut and watches Thor's cock roll across his stomach as it fills with blood. The tip peeks out of the foreskin and Loki greets it with a soft kiss while his fingers lazily trace the veins on the shaft.

To see Loki so at ease makes Thor feel young, which reminds him that he isn't. That they're grown men. Nobody's children now. There are four grey hairs at Loki's left temple and five at his right. Thor has dozens scattered across his whole head, but they hide easily amid the blond.

When Loki dropped from the Bifrost there was still a touch of boyishness to his cheeks, but when Thor found him again on Midgard it was gone. It didn't return while Thor was away. No more curves on Loki's face save those in his eyes. He's all angles and planes. The bones of his skull show sharp and the shadows they cast are dark on his pale skin. But Loki's smile has returned – the real one, not the sneer. The same smile Loki gave Thor when they were boys and Thor had said or done something sweet – praising Loki or bringing him a gift.

Thor stares at Loki's body. The flesh is firm and strong. It was harder to appreciate it when Thor was at his biggest. Only Volstagg seemed strong to Thor. But now Thor is the little one. Feeble and frail. Loki lifts him as easily as he would a maiden and touches him as gently as one would a wounded bird.

Part of Thor longs for his old power and bulk and the sense of safety they brought him, but an equal piece of him is grateful for this sojourn in an unexpected form. Thor knows he'll be well soon enough and that he likely has years of health to look forward to. He might only be this helpless once.

The thought suddenly worries him.

Unwritten millennia lay ahead, and Thor remembers that he and Loki are far from old.

He doesn't want to lose Loki's careful hands in the bath, washing his face and trimming his beard. Or the long arms around him in bed, letting him know he's not alone. Or the soft kisses from lips swollen with sleep when Loki wakes up and finds Thor's eyes already open.

Thor wants Loki to pick him up. To take his arm. To dance with him in the sunlight. To mend him when he's broken and make love to him by the sea.

Thor's cock bobs in front of Loki's face and Loki hums and kisses the head again.

“What was that about?” Loki murmurs.

“I like this,” Thor says.

“Me kissing your prick?”

“That too.”

“What else?” Loki asks.

“This,” Thor says, with a limp toss of his arms. “All of it. Life hasn't been so slow and soft since we were children.”

Loki nods, kisses Thor's navel, and climbs up the bed, pulling sheets and furs with him and tucking them in.

He settles at Thor's right side and takes Thor's hand.

It's slightly tight. The fingers don't quite go fully straight, still curled to fit Mjolnir's handle, so Loki kneads and stretches them constantly.

“When you first got back I feared you'd insist that you could take care of yourself, fry me with lightning, and then fall flat on your face,” Loki confesses.

“I feared you wouldn't be here,” Thor admits. “And I'd have thought this would bore you to tears. Or exhaust your patience. Meals, naps, and bathing, over and over, like caring for a baby.”

“Well, I haven't seen you in nearly a century. And you don't cry or require diapers.”

“Mmmm,” Thor agrees, smiling.

Thor takes Loki's right hand in his own and then rolls onto his left side, pulling Loki in tight behind him.

Loki wraps his arm around Thor's waist and kisses the top of Thor's spine before burying his nose in Thor's hair.

“Will it end when I'm well?” Thor whispers.

“Will what end?”

“This,” Thor says. “Will you kick me out of your bed and treat me like a thing of steel instead of feathers?”

“Do you take me for a fool? To kick you out of bed would insult the Norns after how fervently I prayed for this fate. And I've seen your helmet, Thor – you are a thing of feathers.”

Thor snorts and weaves his fingers between his brother's beneath the blankets.

“Do you remember our hunting trips?” Thor murmurs.

“Of course,” Loki breathes.

“I was never happier.”

“Neither was I,” Loki says softly, and kisses Thor's neck.

When they were finally old enough to leave for a hunt on their own, the brothers set out for Asgard's oldest forest.

Loki brought lots of food and drink, but not a bedroll or furs, so Thor offered to share his. Loki slid in, warm and boneless with his belly full of meat, and promptly plastered himself to his brother.

When Thor's arm came up, Loki expected to be peeled off and pushed away. But he wasn't. Instead, Thor held him in place. They kept their eyes closed, pretending to sleep, as they shifted and slotted their bodies together throughout the night so that, by morning, they were face to face with their arms around each other and their legs knotted together.

And then, because they were healthy boys and it was only natural, they could pretend to sleep through the wonderful press of erections against the soft skin of slim stomachs.

They left the tent well after midday to pacify their growling guts – and to bathe, for they were sticky.

They had brought down a buck the previous afternoon, cleaned it, and eaten some for supper, storing the rest up in a tree. They decided that was all the hunting they needed to do for the week. It was more than enough food for the two of them. Why be greedy? they said.

So they went back to bed before the sun had even set and pretended to sleep again.

And it was a game.

A trick.

A lie.

And it was perfect.

For if their eyes were shut then they were innocent - they couldn't be held accountable for what their bodies got up to when they weren't looking.

They moved in stages concealed by yawns and stretches until they were in each other's arms, undulating softly and trading loose brushes of parted lips.

They were careful not to do anything they wouldn't do in their sleep. They didn't lick past each other's teeth. Didn't stroke their own cocks or each other's. Didn't swirl spit-slicked fingers over hungry little holes. They just rocked against each other the way they sometimes rocked against their mattresses when they were alone in their beds. Held each other they way twins cling together in the womb.

On their fifth hunting trip they woke at noon on the fourth day and went to the river to wash. When they returned, they found their father's ravens eating the meat that they had hung in the tree. The brothers went wide-eyed, certain the birds had seen them rinsing semen from their stomachs as they stood waist-deep in the stream.

Thor and Loki were confident that Odin would either disown them or murder them, and couldn't quite decide which fate would be worse.

They went home with their hearts in their throats.

And then nothing.

No consequences ever materialized.

The princes counted themselves lucky, but they were far too frightened to press it, and by unspoken agreement they let go of their lovemaking.

“We were fools,” Thor whispers. “We wasted centuries with our fear.”

“We were but children. Our fears were well founded. We stood no chance of protecting each other if we were found out.”

“And now?” Thor asks.

“There are none left who could hope stand against us. Besides, I'm dead, officially, and only Heimdall can see us, and he's known all along.”

“How long will you keep me hidden?”

“As long as you'll let me.”

Thor hums and presses Loki's hand.

And it occurs to Thor that, for all he has gained and lost, nothing has changed: he has always been the secret Loki keeps. The bright fluttering thing buried beneath barbs, armor, and bone.

Thor has secrets of his own, but not because he wants to. First it was merely that he wanted things he didn't know how to name, and you can't tell a secret that you can't speak and don't fully understand yourself.

And then, years later, when the words finally came, there was no one left to tell.

But now Loki is here.

Thor takes a deep breath and arches his back.

Loki sucks on Thor's neck and splays his fingers over Thor's sternum, slowly rubbing Thor's chest, sometimes teasing a nipple and hearing Thor sigh.

Thor arches his back again and Loki shifts to better fit his erection into the shallow cleft of Thor's ass. The flesh is firm and meager against Loki's hips. Loki makes a mental note to sneak more butter into his brother.

Loki's long fingers trail lower, flowing over the ribs and down to the peak of a hip, where they pause and press a fond squeeze before dipping into the crease of the thigh and roughing up Thor's fur.

Thor arches his back again and Loki runs a fingertip through the seam of Thor's balls, along the ridge on the underside of his cock, and up over the head, swirling it through the fluid beading at the slit and spreading it over the tip of Thor's prick while the whole of it bobs hopefully under Loki's hand.

Thor arches his back again and Loki hums.

“Will you make me beg?” Thor breathes.

“Now that you mention it,” Loki purrs, between nips to Thor's nape, and Thor's laugh is aiming for exasperated, but it falls decidedly on fond.

“Loki.”

“Hmm?” Loki answers, innocently, still slowly stroking Thor's cock, and Thor wishes he had the strength in his fingers to pinch his brother properly.

“Loki, please,” Thor says, his voice gone soft with need.

“Shhh,” Loki soothes, for he doesn't actually want Thor to ask for anything until Thor has had too much of everything; there's no joy in making Thor beg for necessities.

Loki looks at Thor's underfed form and knows that needless days are still far away. His eyes bounce over ribs, hips, and knobby knees. Sharp shins, thin ankles, and bony feet. But, to Loki, his brother has never been more beautiful, for this is the body that brought Thor's soul back to him.

Loki vows to devote the days remaining to him to showing his gratitude to this resilient bit of flesh and bone and the heart it ferried through ice and silence for nearly a century.

Loki tips Thor onto his back and Thor puffs a pleased little gasp while his prick bobs its approval.

Then Loki hovers over his brother on all fours and dips his head to kiss Thor's face. All the mirrors in all the realms could shatter and the water be forever rippled and Loki would count it no loss; the only face he ever needs to see is before him now with parted lips.

He leans down to taste them and tips his head to fit his mouth to his brother's, licking into Thor as Thor sucks slowly on Loki's tongue. Thor's cock is pressing sticky kisses to the underside of Loki's prick and advertising Thor's pleasure with every throb and drip.

The curtains swell into the room and Loki catches the scent of wet stone before he hears the patter of rain on the pavers.

Thor's breast is rising and falling at a pace that hastens as Loki's lips get closer to his cock. When Loki makes it to Thor's navel, Thor tenses and lets out a soft whine.

Loki can feel Thor's prick pressing up against his neck and he thinks the perky piece of flesh has the right idea: Loki lowers his head and swallows Thor's cock until the whole hot length of it is sheathed in lips, cheeks, and throat.

He pulls all the way off with every pass, giving the head a firm suck and swirling his tongue around the folds of foreskin that bunch up at the tip before descending again and devouring Thor's flesh.

“Loki, please,” Thor pants, arching his hips up, and Loki hums and pulls off, nodding his head and climbing out of bed.

The air is charged and the rain is falling harder. The drops are no longer distinguishable, instead blurring together in a growing roar.

Loki pulls a black jar from the back of a shelf and sets it beside Thor's hip.

Thor spreads his legs and looks on hungrily as his brother settles between his thighs and leans in close.

Thor curses as he feels the cold tip of Loki's nose against his perineum and the warm press of a kiss against his hole.

Loki's kisses are maddeningly gentle and teasingly chaste. His lips deal dry pecks to Thor's taint and anus before wandering out onto the cheeks to nip the little curves of Thor's backside.

But then the nips turn into firm bites and Thor groans his approval as sharp teeth pinch his skin, leaving dotted red rings in their wake.

Loki's kisses grow longer and lewder, lips sucking marks onto everything they touch as Thor twitches and hums, loving the hunger and focus of Loki's attentions.

The fuzzy wetness of Loki's tongue glides across Thor's entrance and the pleasure of it rolls through Thor's body and out into the sky, sending thunder rumbling across the realm as the room grows bright with lightning.

Loki does it again, slowly, and feels every little ridge and wrinkle of skin catching on his taste buds as they pass over Thor's puckered hole.

Thor makes no effort to rein in his moans. They egg Loki on, which, in turn, only makes Thor moan louder. They urge each other on like race horses in this way.

Soon the fur between Thor's legs is stuck to his skin with sweat and saliva, and both of the brothers are panting.

They're starting to smell like something wild that's just come in from the rain.

Loki presses a long parting kiss to Thor's hole and then sits up slightly on his knees and grabs the jar that's still by Thor's hip. Loki dips a shaking finger into the pot, scoops up a blob of the salve that's inside, and spreads it over Thor's anus.

Thor lets out a slow breath and then bears down to let in Loki's finger.

Loki's thumb brushes the stretched edge of Thor's entrance while his forefinger wastes no time, following the front wall of Thor's rectum until it finds Thor's prostate. Loki draws little circles around its circumference, slowly increasing the pressure and decreasing the diameter until he's rubbing the summit of the little bulge of flesh. Then he spirals back out to its edge and does it all over again.

For Thor, it feels like Loki's finger has somehow slid up into his penis and is swirling around within the thing. The head of Thor's cock is buzzing. He's been at the very edge of orgasm ever since Loki's finger pierced him.

He stares at Loki's face.

Loki is staring at the steady trickle of fluid that's falling from the slit of Thor's prick and pooling on the planes of Thor's stomach. Clear and sticky. Loki has never seen anyone make this much of it before, but then his brother isn't just anyone.

And Thor is torn.

Because this is lovely. Loki's focus is burning through his skin, inside and out, and Loki's body is within his own in a way it hasn't yet been. Loki's face looks soft and hungry, eyes wide and mouth open in an endless oh.

But Loki's lips are far away, and Loki's cock is farther, and that won't do.

“Loki, please,” Thor breathes, and Loki blinks and sucks in a breath.

Thor's ass tickles as Loki's finger glides free, and Thor makes a soft sound of pleasure and surprise at the sensation.

Loki smiles and stuffs a pillow beneath Thor's bottom to prop him up, then grabs the jar and scoops out more salve. He spreads it over his own cock and then onto Thor's erection before climbing up his brother's body and taking himself in hand.

Thor's eyes go wide at the first brush of Loki's cock against the skin of his hole.

“Deep breath and then push,” Loki whispers.

Thor nods and obeys, and then watches Loki's eyes squeeze shut as he inches into Thor's body.

Thor jerks when Loki's prick brushes his prostate. Loki hums a predatory little sound against Thor's lips.

And then they both draw slow breaths and let themselves stare.

Their pupils are wide and their cheeks are flushed.

Their hair is mussed and they're smiling.

They haven't looked this young in centuries.

And they've never felt this light.

Because this is it. They made it. They crossed the last line left between them and the realms didn't blink.

No one can take this from them now, and they'll never take it from each other.

And there is no more Thor.

And there is no more Loki.

But there is always brother.

Loki wills himself to focus. Thor is tired. They can take their time later.

He lifts his hips and feels the tight drag of Thor's entrance over the shaft of his cock, wringing pleasure from skin that was already singing.

Thor's head rolls on his neck as Loki inches back in and Thor keens so softly it makes Loki shiver.

Loki sets his pace to match Thor's breathing, in and out in time with the air that fills Thor's lungs, growing faster as Thor gets closer, but not stopping when Thor goes still and holds his breath.

Loki glides in and Thor bucks.

Thor's body is bewildered. It feels as if Loki's cock has pushed up inside Thor's own prick and forced the semen out to make room for itself.

Thor's body quakes through the aftershocks of his orgasm while Loki thrusts three more times and groans. Thor feels warmth bloom within as Loki pours seed into him.

“Again,” Thor breathes, body wasted on the bed, and Loki parts his lips to argue, but Thor says, “Please.”

Loki nods and bounces his hips until Thor's cock is jerking between their bellies, slicking them with seed, and then Loki cries out as his own ending takes him.

The storm outside hasn't stopped. Thor's thirst still wants slaking.

“Please,” Thor says again, and Loki takes a shaky breath and grits his teeth as he slides through the tight heat of Thor's hole.

Thor feels stretched and full and open. He's soaked in sweat. Loki's breast is flush with his own and Loki's breaths are hot and ragged against Thor's upper lip. But Loki's kisses are smooth and liquid, flowing into Thor's mouth with every swirl of Loki's tongue. Loki's hips roll in time with his lips, fucking into Thor from both ends at once.

And Loki doesn't hide behind long lashes: his open eyes rove over Thor's features, often catching Thor's gaze and smiling somehow - wrinkling up at the edges. Sometimes the grey-green eyes roll back in Loki's skull when Thor gets too close and clenches, but otherwise they only shut for blinking.

Thor doesn't want to let go. He wants to keep Loki safe like this for centuries. Wants to be molded to Loki's cock and stuck to him with seed. But it ends again as it always does, with their writhing bodies both quaking and quivering helplessly while their nerves catch fire and then burn out in a burst of energy.

When Thor asks to go again, Loki shakes his head.

“You'll be sore. And you're exhausted.”

“Then let me have your hand on me,” Thor pleads. “And spill your seed on me.”

Loki nods and carefully eases out of Thor's body. He leans back on his arms to let himself see the mess of spunk that follows on the heels of the head of his cock.

Thor's opening looks puffy, pink, and tender. Loki leans down to kiss it better and breathes a spell to hasten its healing as Thor hums above him.

Then Loki straddles Thor's thighs, takes himself in his left hand, takes his brother in his right, and starts stroking.

They're both sticky, soiled, and ecstatic.

When they come again they're even more so. Especially Thor: he's streaked with semen from his anus to his armpits and he still wants more, pointing to his face and saying please.

Loki moans, nods, straddles Thor's chest, fists his aching prick, and jerks it with rough tugs until it dapples Thor's cheeks with seed.

And then Thor looks his brother in the eye and opens his mouth wide.

And it's so filthy. Loki can't hope to resist.

Because Thor is begging him with those impossible blue eyes. Asking for things he's wanted for who knows how long. And who else could Thor ask for this? No one in the realms would dare debase the future king. No other who was worthy of Thor's love would be willing to use him this way. Thor could never let just anyone hear him whine and beg.

But, with Loki, Thor is on equal footing.

And there is no propriety here – there never could be – which means there's none to lose.

Thor is making love with his kingslaying not-dead liar of a little brother.

Just as he's always wanted.

And the Norns will it.

Loki starts laughing and slips his prick between Thor's lips.

Thor asks for it twice more and then falls back against the pillows, panting and shaking faintly.

It takes Loki six spells to get the sheets clean and five to fix the pillow that was under Thor's rump.

Loki helps Thor out of bed, but Thor wobbles as soon as he's standing, so Loki scoops him up in his arms and carries him into the bath. They float in hot water until Thor has ceased his trembling and is breathing at a normal rate.

Thor enjoys this every bit as much as the sex. Loves receiving Loki's tenderness. Loves that Loki looks at him no differently than he did this morning. Nothing between them has shifted; they've allowed long-kept secrets to come to the surface only to find themselves more fully reflected in each other.

It leaves them both a bit limp with relief.

Thor's storm has trailed off into warm rain and mild breezes.

On their way back to bed, Loki grabs another jar from his shelf. Thor curls up on his side on Loki's mattress and then Loki leans over, parts Thor's buttocks, and smears an unguent onto Thor's anus. The wrinkled knot of flesh flinches under Loki's fingertip.

“What's this for?” Thor murmurs.

“So you don't hate me in the morning,” Loki chuckles, and Thor huffs, but he can't help but notice that his asshole feels better already.

Loki wraps himself around his brother and they mumble their good nights, minds already half gone.

When he wakes, Loki sees Mjolnir, still sitting on his bedroom floor, not flown off into the arms of some strange Jotun in a fit of pique over Thor's sexual proclivities.

Of course Midgard got it wrong, Loki thinks, and wonders why he ever imagined it would be otherwise.

Thor wants to go hunting, so they do. He's still too weak to be stealthy. Instead, he walks through the meadow and spooks pheasants while Loki waits nearby with a bow and shoots the fattest male he can find.

Supper is lovely.

Afterward, Loki sets the tent to shield Thor's eyes from the stars and then fills their little room of linen and oilskin with rosy lights of seidr.

They share Thor's bedroll and snuggle up under furs wearing nothing but their skin, just as they did all those centuries ago. But there is no fear to keep them from each other now. Their eyes are open and their mouths are joined. They still move at their old pace, however, making love so slowly that new mushrooms have sprouted out under the trees before either brother has spilled his seed.

Thor is tired, but he can't resist remaining awake to watch his brother sleep. Loki's face goes soft and helpless. His shoulders curl and sag. His lips part in a tiny pout.

Thor has had nowhere near his fill of this sight and sees no reason to deny himself these little pleasures that would otherwise go to waste. His eyes need to make up for lost time.

Thor flies them out over the forest and across the ocean the following afternoon, whipping them along with his wind. Loki lets his body go limp, handing himself over to his brother, and Thor skips them on the sea like stones until their bodies slow with a splash. They sink in to their necks and then float up onto their backs.

Loki watches as the sun is swallowed by thunderheads. Clouds fill the sky until Loki can feel the chill of them against his cheeks.

When Loki grew bored during Thor's absence he would, on occasion, go to Midgard to pester Jane. After she had answered all of his questions about spacetime, he starting asking about the sky, for that is Thor's domain. Loki has always secretly believed that all the realms belong to his brother, for there are skies over every world, and they all obey the god of thunder.

Loki asked Jane how much a cloud weighs.

“About a million pounds for your average fluffy white cloud, give or take,” she said.

Loki sat staring out the window for half an hour after that.

The thought of all that weight held up in the air still baffles Loki a bit. He wonders how much damage Thor could do if he decided to drop the sky.

Thor sends his clouds back up into the air and scatters them wide.

He feels the sun bleeding through and kissing his skin.

Feels his brother's eyes on him, fond and fretting over his health.

“We should get some food in you,” Loki says, as if on cue, and Thor smiles wide and nods before conjuring a gust strong enough to send them back into the woods.

The worlds are calm.

Thor can feel it.

His rain falls on ground that isn't soaked with blood or burnt with oil.

The nine realms weathered ninety years without him.

Sif and Loki manage everything with impressive ease.

Thor wagers no one will miss him if he extends his absence long enough to make it an even century.

Heimdall's gamble has paid out better than he ever hoped.

The guardian sees quiet realms and happy gods, and thanks Frigga's stars for granting him sound guidance.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please pretend commenting is disabled, and please don't repost or distribute my writing.


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